Dancing Night in Busk
by BrazenFerlie
Summary: A scene from 'The Riddle', the second book of Pellinor. 'But I’m not just her teacher, I’m her friend…'. Cadvan's POV. OneShot.


**A/N. So, this is a scene in the book 'The Riddle' from another point of view. 'The Riddle' is the second book in a series called 'The Books of Pellinor' by Alison Croggon. If you haven't read them, check them out at her website.**

_Dun-teh, run-tun-dun-teh, dun! Dun-teh, run-tun-dun-teh, dun! _

The throbbing beat flowed through the small, hazy room. The dim light cast by the stuttering candles and torches shone on the overhanging beams that supported the small tavern, giving the confined space a cave-like feel, as if the occupants were joined together as a tribe in its depths. The pounding music enhanced the illusion, lifting every heart in wild, simple joy, making one want to leap and whirl and howl, and several were doing just that.

Cadvan sat at one of the small tables; people crammed in all around him, sitting on the bar, in little rickety chairs, and even on the bare, dusty floor, all straining to get a good view of the beautiful display in the center of the room. The fog induced by the hearth, pipe smoke, and disturbed dust clogged the air, but Cadvan could still make out the figures that whirled around mere feet from him. Though at least a half dozen dancers were there, all moving with equal exuberance and pleasure, his eye was caught by only one.

Maerad swirled and leapt with the dance, rarely missing a gesture or a step. Her dark hair flew about her flushed, exhilarated face, and her eyes were bright with the pleasure and joy of the dance. Cadvan watched her, as young men twirled her about, and as she joined hands with the ladies and stepped and spun, her soft blue garment fluttering about her, and as he watched, he felt many things. It was a joy to see Maerad enjoying herself, loosed from all the burdens and cares she bore, forgetting who she was and where she had come from for one small moment in the abandon of the dance. But Cadvan could not escape a little whisper of sorrow, that this happiness would not last for her, that she could not stay here. She had chosen a different path, one he had led her on.

"_If it wasn't for me_," he thought bitterly as Maerad laughed and spun, "_she wouldn't even have to be on this horrible journey. A quest that will undoubtedly lead to despair. Because of me_."

He shook himself. If it wasn't for him, Maerad would still be trapped in a filthy slum of a cot, left there to be beaten and raped. But was this road, on which she faced so much heartache, much better then the cot in the end?

The beat swelled to a crescendo and the dancers whirled with almost impossible speed, faces and movement blurring in the ferocity of the dance, but Cadvan could still spot Maerad, blue dress spinning, dark hair flying, and pale skin shining in the dim glow. He thought suddenly of how sharply Maerad stood out from the Thoroldians in only that way, her beautiful, smooth, creamy skin. It's whiteness shone especially bright tonight, shining with perspiration on her face and bare arms. She was actually, now he thought about it, quite tanner then she had been in Innail. Riding and eating and sitting out in the sun here on the island had done her good, putting health back into her features. But she was still far whiter then the people of Busk, and her skin stood in relief to theirs tonight, soft and pale as the sands on their beaches, but for the red blush in her face. As Cadvan gazed at her, leaping and laughing, her face a deep scarlet, her arms like floating alabaster, and her movements as wild and beautiful as an Elidhu queen, emotions welled up in him for his pretty student.

"_It does not do well_," he sternly told himself, "_to think that way. It is not right, not good. It is a betrayal of her deep trust in you. What would she think if she knew her teacher thought this way about her? _

"_But I'm not just her teacher, I'm her friend_…"

The beat pounded and throbbed and welled up to a frenzy, every heart lifting in the wild abandonment, the dancers whirling and flying, and just for a moment Cadvan felt he ought to rush up and seize Maerad, his love. Then, the music burst, and stopped. The dancers all struck a triumphant pose on the end note, heads thrown back, eyes sparkling with freedom.

Then the spell broke. People surged up to the small space of floor, greeting and chatting with the dancers. Cadvan saw Maerad bypass a few young men and head back toward him and their table, and he thrust out all the feelings that had rushed through him while watching the dance. He was Maerad's teacher, nothing more, and she was not his love.

Maerad flung herself down into another small chair, panting, her cheeks still stained a deep red. Cadvan couldn't help but smile at her flyaway appearance.

"Wild girl," he jested, struggling not to think on how she had whirled about, "I said you were part Thoroldian."

Maerad laughed, a gleeful noise that still spoke of her weariness, "Well, if I am, maybe you are too."

A sudden image burst into Cadvan's mind, himself and Maerad, quite alone, in the same whirling, flying dance, free to be close, to touch…

"Not as far as I know," Cadvan answered. He paused ever so slightly, then added, "But anything is possible."

As he said it, hope blossomed within him, and he met Maerad's twinkling blue eyes.

"_No_," he thought firmly, "_now is not the time to let loose your wild, inner Thoroldian_."

…

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